


The Water Tower

by palominopup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gay Sex, Happy Ending, M/M, Past Cassie Robinson/Dean Winchester, Top Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 20:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17086865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palominopup/pseuds/palominopup
Summary: As Cas Novak comes home to bury his mother, he sees the town’s water tower and his heart beats a little faster. Dean, his high school boyfriend, climbed the damn thing after graduation and painted a ten-foot heart with their initials inside. It was still there.Cas left Kansas in his rearview mirror after being discovered. He made it big and was topping the charts. Dean had been proud of him and encouraged him to go, but LA wasn’t the place for a small town boy. The drugs and alcohol flowed.  He got in trouble, did a stint in rehab, and started over. He was clean and sober now. All the memories came flooding back because of that damn water tower.Dean Winchester had heard of Cas’ stint in rehab, the parties, and the string of lovers. He’d moved on. Or so he told himself. He’d stayed in his hometown after graduation, helping his father run the farm. The farm was his now and he was making a go of it.He’d put Cas out of his mind years ago. He’d encouraged him to chase his dreams with his music, but Dean thought he was part of those dreams. There were many times he wanted to climb that stupid water tower and paint over the heart, but he never found the time.





	The Water Tower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lorelei2005](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorelei2005/gifts).



> This is my story for the Fic Facers 2018 Charity Auction (https://www.juliahouston.com/fic-facers/). All the proceeds were sent directly to Random Acts from each of the winning bidders. 
> 
> This story is for Lorelei2005. Thank you for believing in me and donating to my favorite charity.

 

Cas leaned his forehead against the window and looked down at the checkerboard pattern of the Midwestern landscape thirty thousand feet below him. He could face thousands of people on a concert stage, but the very thought of going home after all these years is making him physically ill.

“In a recent interview, you said the Resurrection Tour was your second chance at life. Can you tell me why you worded it that way?”

He exhaled slowly and turned his head. The journalist, Charlie Bradbury, from Rolling Stone was shadowing him for an in-depth interview set up by Gabe. It was part of his new image. Open and honest. 

“I was running on empty.” Everyone knew the story. It was plastered on every supermarket rag in the world. Talking about it was therapy, or so Meg kept telling him. He pointed out the window. “I was the proverbial small-town boy, singing in church and high school talent shows. I was ‘discovered’ when I made a YouTube video.” He stopped. He remembered that day like it was yesterday. The memories of laughter, twinkling green eyes, and the feeling of being loved overwhelmed him for a moment. As if sensing it, Charlie bowed her head and gave him time to pull himself together.

Offering her a grateful smile, he continued, “Next thing I knew, I had a manager and was signing a record deal. When the tours started, I wasn’t prepared physically or emotionally. The person who I was supposed to trust the most started giving me drugs to ‘help’ me get through.”

Charlie frowned and made a distressed sound. That too, had been in the tabloids. Crowley had exploited him in more ways than one. “What were you taking?”

“Uppers, downers, coke, grass... and washing it all down with good Russian vodka,” he answered honestly. “Anyway, fast forward a few years of that lifestyle took its toll and I was mid-way through a tour. I was singing at The Garden...” He’d been in his own hell. “I was high and pulled a prima donna act. I didn’t want to go on. Crowley cut a line of coke and after I snorted it, he pushed me on stage. I don’t remember anything else until I woke up in the hospital.”

“You publicly fired him after that, didn’t you?”

“ _Folks, we have begun our descent to Central Nebraska Regional, where the current weather is eighty-three degrees and sunny. We will be at the gate in about twenty minutes. We'd like the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for arrival and we want to thank you for flying with us today._ " 

Cas nodded while he fastened his seat belt. “It wasn’t as easy as that. I hired an attorney and he got me out of the contract. It cost me a bundle, but it was worth it. My label stood by me thankfully, and helped me find Gabe... Gabriel. He’s been my savior.” It was true. His new manager saw him through his rehab stay. Besides leaving Dean, it was the hardest thing he’s ever done. 

“Clean and sober for six years, right?” 

“Yes,” he answered as the wheels touched down. Thankfully, no one on the plane recognized him with two days' worth of stubble and the old trench coat covering his ink. Donning a pair of aviators and a baseball cap, he prepared to disembark.

The two of them stepped onto the concourse and Cas led the way to baggage claim. Gabe had arranged for a car to meet them and he scanned the area. An older African American man stood to the side with a sign reading D. Krushnic. It was his alias for hotel reservations and any other time he needed to stay undercover.

“I’m Mr. Krushnic,” he said and indicated their bags. “We’re ready.”

The drive from Grand Island to Lebanon took about ninety minutes. Not long enough. As they neared the town limits, Cas looked up at the old water tower. It hadn’t been painted in over fifteen years, not since Dean had climbed up there after Cas’ graduation and spray painted their initials inside a ten-foot heart. He looked away. 

The driver took them to his mother’s house. It looked the same, just older. He’d sent her money for the upkeep, but obviously she didn’t use it. The paint was peeling and the front yard was more weeds than grass. He hoped she still kept the key in the same place. 

After the car left, Cas hefted the bags onto the porch and walked over to the fourth flowerpot to the left. Lifting it, he smiled. Some things never changed. 

The house smelled of death. He knew it was his imagination, but knowing his mother died here just four days ago made his stomach roll and his palms sweat. Charlie, ever polite, hadn’t moved from the doorway. “Mom kept a guest room. Lebanon doesn’t have much, but there are a few hotels out near Highway 36, if you’d prefer.” Did he even want to stay here? He strode determinedly down the hall to his old room. Other than smelling musty, it looked the same. Posters hung on the walls and the same blue corduroy bedspread covered the twin bed. His bookshelves were filled with all his old books and awards from both his days as Lebanon High’s track star and local singing competitions. 

He felt Charlie’s presence behind him. “This is where it all began. Sad, huh?”

She shook her head and picked up one of the trophies. “Track and field. You still run, don’t you?”

Cas nodded. “I stopped when the drugs took over, but now, I run about ten miles a day when I’m able.” 

She smiled and touched his forearm. “Show me my room, Padawan.” Since she made the decision for him, he dropped his carry-on and led her further down the hall. He noted that his mother’s bedroom door was wide open. Growing up, it was always closed. He hadn’t been allowed to enter.

Charlie seemed delighted at the antique metal bed and handmade quilt. She spun around, arms outstretched. “This is like a cool bed and breakfast.” She stopped and gave him a serious look. “There will be breakfast involved, right?”

Truly smiling for the first time since he got the call about his mother’s heart attack and subsequent death, he rolled his eyes. “I can do scrambled eggs. Anything else will require a trip to Ellen’s.” The memories kept coming. Ellen was one of his biggest supporters. He and Dean could hold hands and act like a real couple in the small diner attached to Harvelle’s Roadhouse. He missed her. She was probably lost to him too. Local boy becomes junkie... he figured it made the headlines here as well. 

“Ellen’s? Does this Ellen do pancakes and waffles?” 

“The best in Kansas,” Cas replied. “I need to go to the funeral home. You can stay here if you want.”

“You’re going alone?” Charlie nibbled on her lower lip and Cas was struck with a feeling of fun filled nights of movies and popcorn. She was smart, funny, and even the hard questions didn’t seem intrusive coming from her.

“It was always just my mother and me.” He didn’t mention all the friends who were more like family. Dean, his brother, Sam, and Mary Winchester. He felt a stab to his heart. He should have been there for Dean...

“Well, come on, Mr. Novak, let’s go.” He gave her a grateful smile and ushered her out the door. In the kitchen, on the wall, hung his mother’s car keys. 

He turned on the garage lights. The fairly new Toyota Camry took up most of the small space. He’d had Gabe buy it for her after his last CD went platinum. It replaced the Ford he’d bought her when his first CD was released. He was a dutiful son. Naomi Novak was a hard woman. Religious to a fault and she raised Cas because it was her duty. Oh, he believed she loved him, but she was also ashamed of him. When you were a member of the Lebanon Baptist Church, having a gay son was such an embarrassment. 

Once the necessities were over and the arrangements made, Cas drove Charlie through town. “Wowsa, it is small, isn’t it? I can see how crazy LA must have been to the young, impressionable Cas Novak.” LA had been _too_ much. Parties every night. The drugs easily obtainable. A rock stars dream. He’d done his best to fit in. Rehab changed all that. It altered his music style and now, he lived in Nashville... they called him a successful crossover artist.

Back at his mother’s -- now his – house, he left Charlie to her computer while he called Meg. 

“About damn time. Didn’t you land like... hours ago?” He closed his eyes. Meg grounded him. She kept him humble and sane. At one time, she kept him from signing himself out of rehab and getting stoned. These days, she co-wrote his songs, acted as his publicist, and held the reigning title of best friend.

He huffed, because it was expected. “Meg, I had shit to do.”

“That reporter behaving herself?”

“Charlie has been wonderful. You’d like her.”

“Doubt that. When is the funeral?”

“I’ve arranged to have her buried on Saturday.” There would be no funeral. Two days from now. Hopefully, he could get all the loose ends tied up and not see anyone he knew. He made it clear that he didn’t want her death listed in the newspaper. He knew it was a long shot. Everyone in Lebanon already knew she’d died. He just hoped no one would show up. He couldn’t face them.

“I can still come...”

“No.”

“Fine,” she said, her displeasure apparent. “On to better things then... have you seen your lost love?”

“I’m hanging up now.” In the hundreds of hours in rehab, he’d been a mess, and Meg was there to hear every single word. She’d held him as the drugs leeched out of his system and she sang to him as he cried over the loss of his first and only love. It was her words he set to music that became the start of the new Cas Novak. _Without Your Love_ hit the top of the charts and earned them both a CMA award for songwriting. He’d won Single of the Year and Best Male Vocalist. 

“No, you’re not.” Sometimes he hated her. 

“I’m flying back Saturday night. Will you pick me up at the airport?”

“Sure thing, Clarence. Anything for my bestie.” He was opening his mouth to say goodbye, when she spoke again. “Go see him, Castiel. You need closure.” She only called him by his full name when she was being protective.

“Bye, Meg.”

“Bye, Clarence.”

Dean slung the bag of feed over his shoulder and headed for the barn. If they didn’t have some rain soon, he’d have to fill all the stock tanks. Another expense he didn’t need. The farm was in the green, but barely. It was in bad shape when his father died while Dean was still in high school. He’d quit and took over the day to day business of running the place. His mother, Mary, had worked just as hard as he did. With a healthy wheat crop and a small dairy herd, it was backbreaking, but they’d done it. They’d been able to pay the debt John had left and keep the farm.

He didn’t want to think about his mother. She’d been gone for a few years now, but he still missed her every damn day. Thankfully, the cancer hadn’t lingered. She was diagnosed in July and by late November hospice had to be called. She died a week before Christmas. Sam had flown in from Stanford where he was getting his degree in journalism and they’d buried her beside John. They hadn’t celebrated the holiday since. 

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he pushed everything out of his mind. He had work to do. Spring meant longer daylight and he needed to take advantage. A few of the cows were getting ready to calve and he couldn’t afford to lose any of them. He finished unloading the last of the feed and headed for the larger barn. The smell of manure and sawdust didn’t affect him, it was something every farmer was used to. He patted the backside of one of the Holsteins that made up his herd. 

The sun was setting when Dean entered his kitchen. He’d put a roast in the crockpot and the aroma made his mouth water. He looked at the clock on the wall. Sam would be there soon. 

His shower was quick and he dressed in clean jeans and a t-shirt. He wasn’t out to impress anyone. Not anymore. While he waited for his brother, he made a batch of biscuits and cooked some carrots to go with the roast. Potatoes were baking in the oven and he was pulling them out when the backdoor opened. "Smells great,” Sam said in way of greeting. 

“You’re late,” Dean chided. 

“Five minutes, Dean. Besides, I have news.”

“Bobby get drunk and wreck his truck again?” Small town living had its drawbacks. Nothing exciting ever happened here.

“Cas is in town.” 

Dean felt that bombshell settle into his chest. It was a physical ache. “Figured he’d let his ‘people’ bury his mother.” Cas hadn’t stepped a foot back in Lebanon since he’d gotten discovered. Not one fucking foot. Word had it that he sent his mom money... a fuckton of money if rumors were to be believed. 

“Ellen said him and some little minute of a girl showed up this morning for breakfast. She said he looked just like his pictures on Google.” 

“A pothead?” Dean’s tone was sharp. Cas meant nothing to him anymore. He’d left Dean to make it big in the music scene. He’d forgotten Dean. Cas Novak was nothing but a loser. Drugs and booze did that to a person. 

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was soft, like he was gentling a calf. Fuck that.

“No, Sam. We aren’t talking about Cas. Not now. Not ever,” he shouted, slamming the pan of biscuits onto the stovetop and slamming out the backdoor. The wounds healed, but the scars Cas left on Dean’s heart would always remain. 

“Dean,” Sam called. “Come inside and eat. Stop being a horse’s ass.”

He clinched his fists and stared up at the sky. The stars were out. Hunger won out over his mulish behavior and he turned back. The meal was eaten in silence. He couldn’t stand it. He had to know. “When’s the funeral?”

“So, get this... Cas didn’t want a funeral. They are burying her tomorrow though.”

“Bet Naomi’s church crowd are having a duck. The prodigal son returns in all his gay, drugged out glory and doesn’t let them gather to gossip and exchange casserole recipes.”

“Cas has been clean since he went to rehab back in 2012. People can change, Dean.”

“Hell, yeah, they can _change_ ,” he muttered and started cleaning off the table. Cas changed alright. One day he’s telling Dean he loves him and the next he stops answering phone calls. No texts, no emails, nothing. Jack shit. Even when Mary up and dies, he’s told by some uppity dude that Cas is too busy to come to the phone. Fuck him.

“He’s staying at Naomi’s place... though I guess it’s his now.”

Dean didn’t care where Cas was. _He didn’t fucking care_.

Sam left and Dean couldn’t tamp down the feeling of restlessness. He stepped out onto the porch and stared in the direction of the town’s water tower. On a clear day, he could just make out the stupid heart he’d painted all those years ago. He remembered his father that night at the dinner table. John wasn’t happy Dean was with Cas. He stared long and hard at Dean. “Son, I don’t want to see it. You can do what you want, but don’t bring it around here.”

That was the last time they spoke about it. Dean abided by his father’s rules until the day John Winchester dropped dead of a stroke while riding the tractor. Not long after the funeral, Mary came into Dean’s room one night while he was on the phone with Cas. She whispered, “Tell him to come to dinner tomorrow night.” Dean stared open-mouthed, then stuttered out the invitation into the phone. After that, Cas was at the farm every day. Every day until he up and left.

He was about to turn and go back into the house when a flash of metal drew his attention. Was that a car? It was half-hidden at the fence line. Last year, he’d had some problems with a couple kids coming out and using paintball guns on his cows. “Not again,” he growled and fell into the shadows. He made it to the fence without being seen. Ten feet away sat Naomi’s Camry. Dean’s mouth went dry. _This was not happening_.

“Hello, Dean.” He closed his eyes and felt his jaw tic. Damn the man. After all this time... he could still make Dean want him just by saying his name.

“Cas.” Dean turned to find the man leaning against the rail fence. It was too dark to see his face and but Dean could tell he wasn’t the skinny twenty-something anymore. “What are you doing here?”

Cas straightened and walked forward, shortening the distance between them. Dean wanted to back away, but he stood his ground. He wasn’t the one that ran away.

“In rehab, you’re told to apologize to everyone you hurt.”

“So, what, you’ve come to say you’re sorry?” Dean’s laugh was harsh. “After twelve fucking years.” Cas held up his hands but Dean wasn’t done. “Guess the parties and all the drugs helped you forget you were...” he stopped. No, he wouldn’t... _couldn’t_ talk about _them_. “Look, you know what... you’re sorry. That’s great. Have a nice life, Cas.” He spun around, but Cas hand on his arm stopped him from escaping. 

“You stopped calling. You were the one that gave up on me.”

“What? Oh, no, you don’t get to blame this on me. I lo--…" He shook his head. Cas ruined everything. He’d loved him so damn much and long after he was gone, he couldn’t move on. God knows, he tried. Cassie. He really thought he could make it work. Funny thing was, when he’d slipped up during sex and called her Cas, she didn’t even notice. _Fucking irony_. 

He’d even thought about marriage. Someone to work beside him on the farm, like his mom and dad. She hadn’t wanted that life though. She had dreams that didn’t include Lebanon, Kansas. Then he’d gotten drunk one night and confessed that he was bi. She flipped out. Then she put two and two together and threw Cas up in his face. She’d been two years behind him in school and everyone knew he and Cas were tight. Best friends. When he shouted that she was right, that he and Cas were fucking, she’d slapped him and left. Left him and left town. 

“You didn’t even call me when Mary... when she got sick,” Cas’ voice was broken. But that wasn’t what happened. He’d called. He’d lost count of how many times he’d called.

“I was told you were too busy...” Dean whispered.

“By who?” Cas’ voice rose several octaves. “By who, Dean?”

“Some dude with an accent. Eventually, he told me to stop calling you because you were seeing someone and...” 

Cas dragged his hand through his hair and roared, his fist slamming into the fencepost. Dean winced at the sickening thud. 

“Who was he? Your boyfriend?”

Cas’ froze and shook his head wildly. “God, no. Crowley. My _manager_. My piece of shit manager that kept me in drugs and booze as long as I was a good boy and sang for my supper.” He took a step away from Dean. “I would have been there, Dean. You have to know that. I loved you.”

Dean heard the past tense and knew it shouldn’t bother him, but it fucking hurt. “Water under the bridge, Cas. I’m sorry about your mom...” It seemed like something that needed to be said. Naomi never liked Dean. He was the dirty farm boy who she blamed for making Cas gay. 

“I... thank you. I should go,” Cas said softly. 

“Hey... come up to the house and let me look at your hand.” He was a glutton for punishment. He should have let Cas leave. He’d go back to his life, knowing Cas hadn’t forgotten him... knowing Cas wasn’t at fault... then what?

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t be stupid. I heard it, man. Shit, it made me flinch and it wasn’t my freakin’ hand.”

Dean led the way across the field, trying not to think about Cas following him. In the light from the porch, he got his first good look at the man Cas had become. He’d been gorgeous back then, but now... now, he was a work of art. Literally. Ink curled around both arms disappearing into his tight t-shirt. But it was Cas’ face that made his heart race. He was beautiful. 

He knew better. Then he told himself it was just to see the farm. After John’s death, he’d spent so much time there. It was more of a home than the house he shared with Naomi. At first, he’d sat in the car and looked out over the barns and fields of wheat. Then he saw movement and his breath caught in his throat when Dean stepped onto the porch. He’d know the bowed legs anywhere. His body felt a rush of heat when he remembered how they wrapped around him as he pushed inside of Dean. Dean had been his first. 

Cas had gotten out of the car because he needed the cool night’s breeze to calm him. Dean’s appearance had startled him, but not nearly as bad as he spooked Dean. 

Now, he stood in the warmth of the kitchen, the light showing him the man he’d loved... hell, still loved. Maybe he had more freckles... but his eyes were still perfect. Years of farm labor had given him a beautiful body. No one in his torrid past would ever compare to Dean. “Dean...”

“No, Cas.” It was like he was reading Cas’ mind. Cas sat down at the oak table where he’d had so many meals with Mary, Sam, and Dean. Dean opened a cabinet and pulled out a white box. Then without meeting Cas’ eyes, he picked up his hand. Cas winced and a soft moan escaped. He looked at it and inhaled sharply. The skin was ragged and bloody. Meg always told him his temper was his worst enemy. 

Dean cleaned the wound gently and then wrapped a bandage around it. “I don’t think you broke anything, but you might want to get it x-rayed just in case." Cas wiggled his fingers. It stung, but everything moved okay. He didn’t have time to go to the local clinic. 

After applying the last bit of tape, Dean moved away. Cas felt an emptiness in his soul. This was it then. He’d leave and tomorrow he’d bury his mother. Then it was back to Nashville. “I never loved anyone else,” he exclaimed, needing to say it. It wouldn’t make a difference, but Meg said he needed closure.

“Cas...” Dean looked stricken. “Please don’t...”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell you that you are the only man I’ve ever loved. Don’t tell you that my life was shit without you? Don’t tell you that I still dream about you? Don’t... tell you that every minute of rehab was torture because I knew you’d hate what I became.”

“Stop it...” Dean was shaking his head back and forth like he didn’t want to hear Cas’ words. He had one last chance. He started to sing the song he wrote for Dean. 

 _Yesterday just came and went_    
_And today dealt me another hand of heartaches that I'll play_    
_What we said and what we meant_    
_Two different things, just some words and rings_    
_And time keeps raising the stakes_    
   
_Tonight_ _,_ _I'll find you in my dreams_    
_And tomorrow I'll wake up and have to feel you fade away_    
_That's the way it goes it seems_    
_Tears filled with pain and they fall like rain_    
_Constant reminders every day_    
   
_Without your love_    
_The sky is grey_    
_Without your love_    
_I'm waiting on the sun to shine_    
_Without your love_    
_Every hour is the darkest time of the day_    
_And every moment's a crime_

He whispered the last stanza and then the last part faded.

_And every moment's a crime_

“You don’t get to do this, Cas. You don’t get to roll into town after all this time and say... say those things to me. You’re leaving again... going back to your life. Your world.”

“Dean, I...” What could he say? Dean was right. His life wasn’t here anymore. 

“One night...” Dean’s words were said so softly that Cas wasn’t even sure he’d spoken. Dean’s lips were in a firm line and after a moment, his eyes drifted away. He watched as Dean swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. Then he cleared his throat. “One night, then you go back where you belong. We both get our closure.”

Knowing in his heart that one night would never be enough and this would probably cause his heart to shatter beyond repair, Castiel nodded once. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dean repeated and wiped his hands on his denim clad thighs. He went to one of the cabinets and pulled down a bottle of Jack Daniels. Cas had to smile when he got two old jelly glasses down from another one. He remembered those. “Tweety, right?” It made Cas’ heart swell.

“Yes, but I can’t...” Dean’s eyes widened.

“Shit... I’m sorry. I didn’t... I wasn’t thinking.” He eyed the bottle with longing. Cas put him out of his misery.

“Dean, you can have a drink. It really doesn’t bother me.” For the first time since he got his one-year chip, he truly wished he could partake the liquid courage.

A look of relief spread over Dean’s features and he poured the whiskey into his glass. It was a lot more than a typical shot, but Dean downed it easily. He smacked the glass on the counter and wiped his mouth. “Come on.” 

Cas followed him out of the kitchen and up the familiar staircase. Cas paused at was once Dean’s room and Dean looked over his shoulder. “I moved into the master a couple years ago. Sam said I needed to put the ghosts to rest.”

At the end of the hall, Dean turned on the light of what used to be John and Mary’s master bedroom. It used to have feminine touches, but now, the heavy four-poster was covered in a thick brown comforter with nary a throw pillow in sight. The hide of one of Dean’s cows was used as a rug and gave the room a true farmhouse feel. The hardwood floors gleamed. “It suits you,” Cas said honestly. Would Dean ever marry? Would that bed be used to make babies? Dean’s babies. He pushed that thought into the tightly lidded box in the deepest recesses of his mind. 

They stood awkwardly facing each other. Dean seemed to come to a decision and he peeled off his t-shirt, slinging it into the far corner of the room. It landed in a wicker laundry basket. Cas couldn’t help but stare. Yes, the boy he left behind had turned into a beautiful man. He was tan from the sun and his jeans hung low enough that he could see the waistband of his underwear.  His hands dropped to his fly and Cas shook his head. This couldn’t be like that. Not like sex between two strangers. He moved fast, taking Dean’s hands in his. Dean licked his lips and Cas tilted his head just enough. The feel of Dean’s lips under his... it was like coming home. 

“God...” he whispered against Dean’s mouth. Dean opened for him and the kiss deepened. He knew he needed to breathe, but for the life of him, he didn’t know why. He’d gladly die for this. Hands skimmed his shoulders and ran down his biceps. Dean pulled back, lips wet with their combined spit. He took the hem of Cas’ tee and dragged it over his head. 

Tentative fingers traced his ink. “This?” 

Cas knew what he was asking. He looked down at his left arm. The tattoo started as a dark cuff around his wrist and grew into a tree bare of leaves. Birds flew up his arm. “Sobriety. Storms make trees take deeper roots.” Dean’s nod was slight and his finger moved to his other arm. “The Angel of Thursday.” Cas had taken his namesake, an angel warrior, and had him standing over a writhing demon, sword held aloft. 

Dean huffed out a bark of laughter. “Castiel, the Angel of Thursday... that’s... awesome.” He looked up. “Anymore?”

He turned and heard Dean’s gasp. Cas lifted his chin and waited. He felt the slide of Dean’s blunt nails, tracing the gray dairy barn and the field of wheat behind it. Almost hidden in a swirl of shadows was Dean’s beloved Impala. On his right shoulder blade, the letters D and W were inked in dark green entwined with vines of ivy. “My first.” The simple words carried a lot of meaning. Dean was his first love, his first sexual partner, and the tattoo was the first he’d commissioned. The artist took pictures provided by Cas and the result was nothing short of perfection.

The warmth of Dean’s chest pressed against his back and he leaned into it. “You loved me.”

“Yes.” Dean’s hands reached around him, flat against his stomach and belly. His chin rested on Cas’ shoulder. “I’ve never loved anyone else.”

“Me neither,” Dean whispered. “Not gonna lie, Cas, I tried. I tried fuckin’ hard to forget you.” Cas didn’t want to think of Dean and others. He could not fault him. He’d be a hypocrite. In his wilder days, he had different lovers every night. Recently, those interested in him were always found lacking. 

The press of Dean’s hips against his ass showed his arousal. He allowed Dean to walk him forward to the bed. Dean unwound his arms and used one of the posts for balance as he toed off his boots. Cas sat on the edge and did the same. Eyes locked, both men took off their jeans, Cas lifting his butt to shimmy out of his and drop them to the floor. He saw Dean’s cock straining against the thin fabric of his boxer briefs and reached out to touch, palming his erection. 

“I pictured this differently in my head,” Dean said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Cas noted his other hand was trembling. Cas cocked his head to the side in question. Dean laughed mirthlessly. “I thought this would be a quick fuck.”

“Is that what you want?” Cas looked up, dropping his hand from Dean’s body. 

Dean walked away, stopping at the window. Cas could see the night sky through the parted curtains. “I don’t know what I want.”

Cas sat silent. He had to let Dean work out what was going on in his head. He’d be patient.

A full minute ticked by. Cas knew because he counted. It kept him from panicking. If Dean changed his mind...

Dean finally faced him, meeting his gaze defiantly. “I want you.”

“You have me.” Cas stood and closed the distance between them. “You’ve always had me.” He took Dean’s hand and brought it to his chest. “In here.”

***

 _Stupidstupidstupidstupid_. It was his mantra as he climbed the stairs, Cas trailing behind him. The whiskey hadn’t been enough to dull the panic he was feeling. He hadn’t been this nervous the first time they’d... that thought alone calmed him. They’d been just kids. With John never leaving the farm and Cas’ mother not allowing Dean to go to Cas’ room because he was a sinner, finding a place had been kind of hard. He’d lost his virginity to Cas on a blanket in the back of Bobby’s salvage yard. There was a creek back there and Cas... the idiot... had brought a stupid scented candle for a romantic touch. He was a sap.

He sensed Cas stopping at the door to his old room. “I moved into the master a couple years ago. Sam said I needed to put the ghosts to rest.” That part was true, but he’d done it for Cassie, knowing that she’d want to have the master bathroom that Mary had renovated a year before she died. Best laid plans and all that...

Now, in his room, Dean had an epiphany. He’d never stopped loving Cas. And seeing that tattoo spread beautifully over Cas’ back was all the proof he needed that Cas loved him back then. In that moment in time, all the anger and the pain disappeared. He’d have tonight to show Cas he was worth fighting for. That they were worth fighting for.

He felt the steady beat of Cas’ heart under his palm. Cas’ hands rested on Dean’s waist, fingers curling into his skin. Then ever so slowly, they moved to span his lower back before moved down to cup his ass. Cas brought them even closer together, their hips flush against each other. He felt Cas’ thick cock and it sent a shiver up his spine. He’d had men over the years, but those times consisted of fumbled hand jobs and half-hearted blowjobs. Cas had been the only man to ever fuck him. He didn’t know how to ask for that. Back then, he hadn’t needed to ask. Cas just knew him. 

They kissed again, slow and easy, as if both were trying out this new thing between them. Dean let his hands roam over Cas’ body. God, he wanted to taste every inch of him. Cas hummed has if in agreement and nibbled at Dean’s lower lip. 

Without letting go of Cas, Dean reached over and felt around for the drawer to his nightstand. His hand closed around the bottle of Astroglide and he lobbed it toward the head of the bed. He felt Cas smile under his lips and broke the kiss. “What?”

“Ever the Boy Scout.”

“Fuck you,” he muttered, but his words carried no heat.

“No, I think it will be the other way around,” Cas murmured and Dean’s cock gave an excited twitch. He reluctantly let go and reached for the unopened box of condoms. He held them up. “Three gonna be enough?”

“We’ve got all night.” 

“Yeah, and we aren’t teenagers anymore,” Dean answered with a hint of disappointment in his voice. Instead of a response, Cas hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and with a sexy smile, he let them pool around his ankles before kicking them off. Dean swallowed... hard. The man was even bigger than he’d remembered. Thick and cut... and fucking mouth-wateringly hard. The cocky bastard knew what he was doing to Dean. The way he crawled onto the bed was porn worthy. 

He rolled onto his back and lifted a brow. “Come here, Dean.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. He shucked off his underwear and threw them aside. Had Cas always been in control sexually? Dean couldn’t remember that part about him. 

Box of condoms still in his hand, he crawled up beside Cas. “Uh huh, on top.” With a smirk, Dean straddled those lean hips. He looked down at their cocks, his nestled next to Cas’. 

It turned out that Cas was a multi-tasker. When he cupped his hand behind Dean’s neck to tug him down for a kiss, his other hand was snapped open the cap of the lube. Cool fingers found the cleft of his ass and moved down to circle his hole slow and gently. Dean moaned when Cas pressed inside. “Yes,” he hissed. “God... yes...” he whispered against Cas’ mouth.

Cas let Dean set the rhythm. He arched his back and rocked his hips, fucking himself on Cas finger. Cas kept kissing him, soft pecks turned to fierce nips and then languid, wet ones that Dean felt to his toes. He couldn’t focus on just one thing. The slide of his cock against Cas’ stomach, slick with the evidence of their arousal... the pressure on his prostate... the heady kisses that could make him forget his own name...

“Need...” Dean panted, but couldn’t concentrate on words. Thankfully, Cas had always known what he needed and time hadn’t erased that knowledge. 

Another finger breeched his opening and Dean keened, his body tensing with the added intrusion. “So lucky to have you, Dean... so perfect... so good...” Cas’ words soothed him and he lifted himself with his arms so he could look down at Cas. Blue eyes stared up at him. Those hadn’t changed. They were still filled with compassion, kindness, humor... and love. Cas said Dean had his heart, but was it real? This was crazy. They’d been apart for so long. Was this wishful thinking?

“Stop.” Cas’ eyes were narrowed. “Stop thinking and feel. Feel, Dean.” 

Dean arched his back and shoved back onto Cas’ fingers. “More.” He did need to stop analyzing everything. Cas had to _make_ he feel. The third finger burned and caused sweat to break out along his spine. He thrust erratically, back and forth, his hips rolling faster and faster. Cas lifted his other hand and pinched Dean’s nipple. He growled at the pain. Then Cas rubbed it soothingly. 

“Easy...” Dean immediately slowed his movements. Cas opened the box one-handedly and tore off one of the condoms with his teeth. He held it out to Dean. His fingers never stopped moving inside of Dean, pressing and rubbing to give him pleasure. With fumbling fingers, Dean ripped the foil packet open and pulled it out. He took Cas’ cock in his hand and stroked it until Cas growled for him to hurry. He rolled the latex down and then slicked it with lube. Past caring about anything, he wiped his hand on the sheets and lift his hips. Cas eased his fingers from Dean’s body and gripped the base of his cock.

As he lowered himself onto Cas cock, Dean met and held Cas’ eyes. They weren’t the color of the Kansas sky... now, they were dark, like the lake in early summer. How many others fell in love with them? Countless teenagers? Fans from all over the globe? He wanted to be the only one to see Cas like this though. The only one to take him inside... 

He settled on Cas’ thighs and let his body adjust. He’d hurt tomorrow, but that would be good. Tomorrow, Cas would be gone again. 

Cas’ palms splayed over his thighs, lightly caressing them with his thumbs. Dean took a deep breath and pressed his hands down on Cas’ chest and rocked up and back, the slight movement making him inhale sharply. Cas watched him intently. He blew the air out of his lungs and lifted up, then down. Again. And again. The mild pain gave way to intense heat deep in his belly. He’d missed this. The feeling of being one with Cas. No one had ever made him feel like this. No one... not Cassie... not the long list of one night stands...

“Dean,” Cas’ sharp tone brought him back again. How did he do that? Cas thrust up and into him roughly, laying his claim and driving all thought from Dean’s mind. They moved together, bodies straining. A part of Dean, the basest part of him, wanted to come, but his soul, the very core of Dean Winchester, wanted this to last forever.

To give him better leverage, Dean reached up and gripped the headboard. Understanding his need, Cas dug his fingers into Dean’s hips and fucked up into him. The musky scent of sex filled his nose. “Fuck...fuck me... Cas...Cas...”

“Yes...” Cas released his hold only to wrap a fist around Dean’s dick. His cock pounded into Dean and he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a sob of frustration, he came, spilling over Cas’ stomach and chest. His muscles tightened with each aftershock until he was weak, but Cas was relentless. Over and over, he thrust into Dean’s willing body. “Dean...” It was a primal scream and he watched Cas go still, eyes wide, mouth parted as if in shock. It stunned him. He loved Cas. Still. 

Cas’ muscles felt like jelly. It was Dean who rolled off and took care of the condom. It was Dean that washed him with a cool cloth. And it was Dean that pulled the thick comforter up before kissing him softly. 

Sometime later, he woke in the dark room. His phone vibrated again and he hurried to get to it before Dean heard it. Meg’s name was on the screen. He answered with a harsh hiss. “What?”

“Well, who shit in your Wheaties?”

“Meg, it’s... “ He pulled the phone away and checked the time. “One.” He saw several missed texts from Charlie. Shit. He’d told her he was going to pick up some soda at the store. That was four hours ago.

Her musical laughter filled his ears. “You weren’t sleeping. Tell me it isn’t so.”

“I was.” He stepped out of Dean’s room and shut the door softly behind him. 

“Since when are you in bed before three... oh... holy shit. Are you with someone? Was that why you were whispering? Please... please tell me it’s Deeeean.” The way she drew out his name set Cas’ teeth on edge.

“Why are you calling Meg?”

“I wanted to check on you.” Her voice changed from teasing to concerned. “I’ve been worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“And you’re with Dean.”

He wanted to lie. To keep this between him and Dean for a little while longer. “Yes.”

“I’m not going to ask if you got closure. So not interested in details. I really called to tell you Gabe got the studio booked and we can start recording Sunday after you’ve rested up from the flight and all this emotional drama.”

Cas leaned against the wall outside of Dean’s old room. “I...” What was he supposed to say? He’d been after Gabe to get the place booked for weeks. He had to get another CD in the works before the end of the summer. 

“Oh, Clarence, you let him break that stupidly big heart of yours _again_ , didn’t you?”

“He didn’t... it wasn’t him. Crowley told him... things.”

“That fucker. I’m going to hunt his ass down and kill him... slow and painful. Maybe peel back his skin inch by inch... I’ll...”

“Meg.” God, she scared him sometimes. 

The door to Dean’s room opened and he peered out, hair ruffled and a crease from the pillow on one cheek. He looked at Cas questioningly.

“Meg, I have to go.”

“Okay... Cas, remember... closure. Or not.” He slid his thumb across the screen, ending the call.

“Meg?”

“My...“ What was she? His co-writer? His partner? His best friend?

“Hey, you don’t owe me any explanations.” Dean looked away. “I’m going back to sleep. This farm doesn’t run itself.” The door shut. 

No, he didn’t get to do this. Anger coiled in his stomach like a snake. He banged open the door and barged in. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, head hung, hands dug into his scalp. He started at the sound and leapt to his feet. He’d thought to put on boxers before coming to find Cas. Cas hadn’t been as wise and he felt exposed. It wasn’t ideal for this conversation, but to hell with it.

“Meg is my best friend. I met her in rehab. She was the one who got me through... everything.”

“I don’t care, Cas. I really don’t. One night. Remember?”

“That isn’t enough,” he roared, stalking to Dean and pushing him back a step. “It will never be enough.” Another push. “I love you. I never stopped. I. Love, You.”

Dean was shaking his head from side to side. “I love you and I’d give up everything for you. Everything.”

Hanging his head, Dean sat down heavily. “Cas...”

“Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll leave,” Cas implored. If Dean didn’t... it would kill him. It felt like a hand was squeezing his heart. It was physical pain.

“Don’t leave.” Dean met his eyes. “Don’t fucking leave me, Cas.”

Dean was hooking up the last of the cows to the milking machines when the barn door crashed open. Cas strode in, hair wild, trench coat flaring around him. Dean patted the cow’s ass and stepped into the aisle. “Well?”

“Meg said yes.”

“Yes?” Dean felt his heart hammering. “Yes?” He started laughing and Cas rushed forward to crash into him. They twirled around while dozens of cows looked on curiously.

“We’re going to have a baby,” Cas said through his laughter and tears.

“A little Cas...”

“A little Dean.”

“Details,” Dean shouted at the top of his lungs, causing the herd to low and shuffle in their racks.

He gripped his husband’s hand and pulled him outside. “We’ve gotta call Sammy... and Ellen... and..."

“Slow down. Meg just said yes today. There are procedures and...”

Dean sobered. “She won’t back out...”

“No. Are you kidding?” Dean knew Meg was recording her solo CD in the next few months. Cas’ last one had gone platinum and he’d agreed to a short tour schedule. Now, he was home. Home.

**Author's Note:**

> The song lyrics used where from Without Your Love, written and recorded by Chris Stapleton. Give him a listen.


End file.
